


A Few Shots and a Tall Drink of Water

by WarriorNun



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Fluff and Smut, It's Wade what do you think, Kinda sorta alternate universe but it's fanfiction I do what I want, M/M, Rated for Deadpool's Language, Stan Lee Cameo, Wade Wilson Breaking the Fourth Wall, gratuitous cameos and references, mentions of innuendos, original prompt, pop culture references, possible drink culture, possible out of character moments, terrible puns involving beverage and drinking in general
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:11:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorNun/pseuds/WarriorNun
Summary: It all started with a few shots.
...
Ok, so maybe more than a few shots.
But what would happen if your friend challenge you to go up to the first person who walks into the bar and ask him or her out, while drunk?





	1. Just a few shots, maybe

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt is from the Writer's Book of Matches which features over 1001 prompts to ignite fiction. And for today's prompt is this: After one too many cosmos, you vow to your two best friends that you'll ask out the next guy who walks by.
> 
> A Tall Drink of Water - idiom to describe someone attractive, akin to how a tall glass of water was appealing on a hot day. Used for both men and women.
> 
> **Yellow Text Box**
> 
> _**White Text Box** _

It all started with a few shots.

…Ok, so it was more than just a few shots. 

But how can you get that buzzing feeling from only a few shots? Only a light weight pussy would be knock out cold after a second! And he’s a lot of things (mainly a dick) but he ain’t no light weight pussy. 

(…pfft, sex jokes).

Anyway, this is where Wade W. Wilson was currently at the moment. Drinking to the point of destroying his liver at Saint Margret’s Home for Wayward Girls. 

“Maybe you have enough.” Weasel commented after staring at what seemed to be the closest thing to a glass pyramid. 

**Maybe YOU should shut up!**

_**Don’t say that!** _

**What?! ******

****_**If you make us say that, he wouldn’t give us the good stuff forever. And we just got started with this short story!** _ ** **

****SHIT! We can’t fuck this up early! Come on! Say something witty but not enough to get our short story be cut…short! And save our drinking privileges!** **

“Maybe _YOU_ have enough.” 

****Nailed it.** **

**_**Classy…** _ **

“Real mature, Wade.” Weasel simply deadpanned before cleaning another glass. “So, what’s up with you lately?” 

“Nothing much…” Wade managed to speak out. Maybe it was the shots, but he was feeling something. And it’s not in his pants. “Knocked some heads, had some pity sex, knocked some more heads, TOOK a dick and shoved it back some guy’s throat before taking his head, the writer can’t come up a believable reason that would also done justice to my comics and movie cause her reality is being a bitch. And also, my hand was tired along with Hot Jizz.”

**Duuuuude. Don’t mention our alone time! Hot Jizz is sensitive about that! He’s such a sweet little unicorn.**

_**I think it was the alcohol kicking in…** _

**No way, we don’t sound drunk! Yet!**

“Yeah, I get it…” Weasel nodded, just casually cleaning another glass. “Sometimes I wish I have a girlfriend too.” Then he sigh as he thought about it. “And it’s not just a one-night stand.”

“I can place my dick in anyone and anyTHING.” Wade declared before downing another shot.

“Ok, Dude, first of all, you’re gonna have alcohol poisoning at this rate.” Weasel pointed out. “Second, even if that’s true, I highly doubt that you would be sober enough to land yourself a date.”

Wade glared up at his friend, or at least tried to. Maybe it was the buzz kicking in. Why was the room spinning?

“Is that a glove bitch-slap that you just gave me?”

“If you meant challenge, then yes. Yes I did.”

**Oh. It is ON like Donkey Kong!**

_**We need to know what the wager is first.**_

“Okie dokie Loki~” Wade sang out before downing another shot that somehow magically appeared. (Maybe Weasel is Loki? He doesn’t look like Tom Hiddelston. Looked more like T.J. Miller…didn’t he ride dragons and somehow got a battle suit with a marshmallow balloon?). He let out a satisfied sigh as he added the now empty glass to the growing pyramid. “Name it.”

“You manage to ask the next person who walk through that door out on a date, possibly get a phone number, and I might let you have the good shit for free for the entire year.” 

Sounds reasonable enough. 

“And if I fuck up?”

Then came what Wade could describe a shit eating grin as the light of the bar lit up Weasel’s glasses in a menacing manner, just like what he have seen in anime. And no it wasn’t the ones with tentacle porn. (Plenty of huge boobies though).

“You pay the tab.” 

_**Well? What do you think? Should we do it?** _

**Fuck the Hell yes, we should! Free booze for a year yo!**

As Wade weighed his options, he had come to a conclusion before taking another swig of his drink and let out a satisfied sigh. 

“Challenge accepted!” He announced as he slammed the glass to the counter, making an effective clank. 

“Good, cause here comes destiny.”

 _Beyoncé?_ Wade narrowed his eyes before turning around in time to see the door opened, revealing what he can only describe as sex on legs. 

It could be that delayed buzzing feel-though the room was kinda spinning a bit- but there stood by the door was a man, probably late teens to early twenties due to how baby-faced he looked. His outfit left little to the imagination but Wade could see that he had a slim physique like a gymnast or an acrobat (wait, are they actually the same thing?) and have legs that could go for miles. That smooth, perfect skin that was begging to be kissed and be peppered with love bites, crazy brown hair that is so goddamned fluffy and defiant against management, and those pretty hazel eyes that he could practically drown himself in. 

And with a bar filled with thugs, ruffians, psychos and tax collectors, he was like an angel just wandered out of Heaven and into the Devil’s nest. 

_**God, that sounded like out of a terrible fanfiction written by a thirteen year old…I fear for the literature of humanity.** _

**Forget that! Why are we stalling?! Get your ass over there before any of these asshats make a move on him!**

It was easier said than done, but he somehow managed to maneuver himself off of the barstool and made the beeline towards the beauty, who seemed to be looking around the premise before taking note of him. 

“Hey~, Baby Boy.”

Yeah, that’s an icebreaker. 

Baby Boy (he’s gonna call him that for now) blinked rapidly a few times before taking a notice of Wade, looking a bit like a deer that was about to run over by a semi-truck. He’s not that scary, is he?

“Can…I help you?” he asked. 

Did he jumped the gun too soon with the pet name? Is it the bloodshot eyes? Does his face make him look like Freddy Kruger’s redheaded stepchild?! Fuck it, the ball was already rolling and time to make this ship happen while being a non-shitface. 

“I was wonderin’ if ya do a favor for me~” God, why did the buzz picked this moment to reveal itself?! Now he sounded drunk! And crazy! …Er! 

“Ok?” Baby Boy’s response somehow came out like a question and wait, did he just backed up a bit? He knew it! He did jumped the gun with the pet name!

**We’re passed at the point of no return, we can’t abort! Repeat, we cannot abort!**

_**For God’s sake, Weasel is going to win this and will NOT allow us to live it down!** _

“Would ya do the honor of going out with me?” Wade was surprised that his words managed to come out clearly, even if he was slurring a bit. God, he hoped that he wasn’t smiling like he was some crazy person. Even if he didn’t win the bet, he could at least get a number from Baby Boy. Whether it was a real or a fake number. 

Luckily for him, Baby Boy didn’t do anything like make up some lame excuse before exiting out of the building and never be seen again (along with his free booze privilege). Instead he cocked his head to the side-seriously, with those eyes, he could place all puppies in the world to shame- and rose an eyebrow. 

“And why would you go on a date with me after knowing each other for a few seconds? I literally just walked through the door.” 

**Cause it’s instant true love?**

_**That is Disney logic. It doesn’t work like that in the real world.** _

**Works for Stan the Man!**

_**He’s the Almighty All-Father. He doesn’t count.**_

“Cause you’re a nice leg of lamb, with those pretty doe eyes.”

And that was God’s honest truth. He’s good enough to eat and he had pretty eyes that could make your knees buckle. That and it was the first thing that came to his mind. 

Baby Boy seemed to be thinking over on what he said for a bit, while staring at him up and down. Well, he wasn’t really the most well-dressed person but hey, in a bar like this, formal clothing can suck ass. Besides, there was this one time a patron came in dressed in a gimp outfit and no one even batted an eye. He seemed to have relaxed a bit before staring up at him straight in the eye and gave him what he dubbed as the cutest smile that he had ever seen. 

“Sure, why not?” 

Wade would have done a flip on this, but he was nearing to blacking out. Besides, face planting upon the floor and making himself a complete ass. Baby Boy took the moment to pull out a pen from his pocket (God, those pants…so tight! How did he get in them?!) and took his hand to scribble something down, most likely his number. All the while Wade took note on how soft and warm Baby Boy’s hand was against his skin. 

Please let it be his real number…

“There, my cellphone number.” Baby Boy told him, still smiling. It could be the shots, but somehow it gave him a minor superpower to know a real smile from a fake. And that is the most realist real smile that he had ever seen. And it was sooooo pretty…

“And speaking of cellphones…I think I left mine…oh there it is!” 

Wade could feel his heart letting out a thump in his chest as he watched him head over to one of the tables which was found by a Hell’s Angel wannabe who held up the cellphone. Feeling his inner Marine flaring up, he was ready to make a move to defend his Baby Boy’s honor. Shit-faced or not. No one messes with his Baby Boy while Wade Wilson is around! But before he could even make a step, Baby Boy thanked him and head back to the door on his merry way. Not before giving him a slight wink and a smile. 

As soon as Baby Boy left the building, a dopey smile actually grew on Wade’s face as he managed to make his way back to his seat by the bar and grinned up at Weasel in what seemed to be triumphant while holding up his hand with pride. 

“Suck. On. That.”

However Weasel doesn’t seem to be distressed at this, and the evidence of that was a risen eyebrow behind his glasses. 

“Unless that is a _fake_ number that he gave ya, and he’s only being nice.” 

Wade rolled his eyes, along with his head, at his logic. 

“Yer jus’ jealous cuz I came across a talllllll drink of water!” Then he smirked as he leaned against the counter. “An’ I’m a thirsty Marine.”

“So says the guy who can drink an ocean of this stuff.” Weasel deadpanned as he added another empty shot glass to the growing tower. “So…riddle me this: how long will it take for you to black out?”

For some odd reason (maybe not), Wade suddenly burst out in drunken laughter and pounded upon the countertop of the bar. 

“I have no idea, you cray-cray…” Then he quickly stopped before finally fell face flat upon the countertop with a thud, the glass pyramid shook a bit as a result but managed to stay standing. All the while Weasel just propped up on his chin with one hand as he took a look at his watch. 

“Just 15 seconds to hold out. Not bad.”

Now the new question is, how bad will the hangover be tomorrow?


	2. A Hangover and Morning Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit...this literally took me a while...damn you, writer's block!! And fanfic ideas!!!

There are three kinds of bitches in this world.

Payback, Karma, and Hangover.

…Or is Payback and Karma are actually the same thing?

…Twins?

Some chick with a split personality disorder?

Fuck it, point is…Hangover is a bitch.

Which is Wade is currently experiencing right now.

A groan escaped from his lips as he felt a huge headache that is enough to kill an overgrown red dinosaur…like a T. Rex. Yeah…a motherfucking T. Rex that can drop the mike like the boss.

…God, the hangovers tend to make us think weird shit. Even when they’re strangely specific. 

**_Better question…HOW did we get back to our apartment?_ **

**Magic of the jump cut in story writing, yo! Gives the readers the mystery!**

**_More like asinine annoyance and the fact that the writer is making this shit up as she goes…_ **

**Duuuude…just think of the bet! And the booty!**

“Oh GOD SHUT UP!” Wade whined, more like growling, rubbing his face, feeling the textured sensation beneath his palms that he had grown accustomed to. “I wanna diiiiiiiiee…”

Unfortunately, despite earning the title of “Death-Proof” back in the good ol’ days of Black Ops, he can’t afford to die. 

Too much important stuff to deal with. 

Like that annoying mountain pile of bills that he had painstakingly made on the kitchen table that he barely used.

Makeshift bowling with empty beer bottles. 

…And also take a piss. 

 

“Alrighty then…” then with a grunt, he mustered all the strength that he had remaining within him to hoist himself up, all the while feeling the pain pounding inside his head intensify. “M-Maximum…effort…!!” As much as he would make a show of backhand spring flip, the last thing he wanted was to break something and die a horrible and yet sucky death. And also give the readers a lame-cop out.

**Hey! Fourth wall breaking is OUR shtick!**

**_Technically, we WRECKED the fourth wall to oblivion._ **

**Better than Miley Cyrus!**

Another series of grumblings was heard as he made his way to the bathroom. Well, not without walking into the wall a few times until he finally maneuvered himself through the opening that is the door. Wade considered this a victory that he somehow managed to strip himself naked and get into the tub without getting himself offed like in Final Destination. 

Geez, Death is such a cunt in that one…and in the rest of the films. But truthfully, that one death scene of the teacher is kinda funny though. 

Grumbling some more, he reached for the faucet before noticing something scribbled on his hand. He grimaced when he noticed that it was some sort of black ink. 

“Mephisto better not draw a dick on my hand…” he grumbled. “I prefer my _own_ dick in my hand.”

And with that, he turned on the water, not even flinching at the lukewarm temperature. 

**_We should have paid the bill…_ **

**I think you should SHUT UP!**

Wade decided to tune out and make white noise as his jam, humming to himself before reaching out for a bar of soap that miraculously was held in his hand and lathered it up to the soapiness so that he could wash out. As he began to lather up, his mind wandered back and slowly the memories of last night were flooding back into his brain. It was a bit fuzzy but he was able to make out the details…

He remembered drinking in St. Maggie’s…

Building up the Pyramid of Giza out of shot glass…

Weasel issuing a challenge to him…

Squirrel Girl arm-wrestling Scrappy-Doo…

…Baby Boy walking through the door…

Wait…WHAT?!

“FUCK!”

Realization hit him harder than a pillowcase filled with bricks, Wade rushed out of the shower as fast as he could, not even taking a second thought about turning off the water. He only slipped due to the wet floor but managed to recover as he get back up before heading back to his room, buck ass naked or nothing! 

“Pen! Pen! Pen! Where are the pens that aren’t even dead yet?!” 

_Damn it! No choice…crayons! Crayola, don’t fail me now!_

Wade made a beeline for the crayons (don’t judge) and instantly remembered that he needed paper. As soon as he got the materials that he needed, Wade raised his hand up…only to see that the number that Baby Boy gave him last night was smudged off to the point of illegible. All he could do was stare blankly at what is left of the number upon the palm of his hand. Somehow he understood how Asuka must have felt when she saw her mother dangling from the ceiling along with that creepy sock doll. And get screwed over in an awesome giant robot.

It was like something inside of him just…broke. 

**Oh…dude…I think I’m gonna cry…I wanna cry.**

**_Somehow, I don’t even care about that bet anymore._ **

Wait…bet…

…WEASEL!

“PhonephonephonephonephonePHONE!” Wade chanted as if it were a manta that could save his life while looking around. “FUCK!” 

How come phones magically disappear when you need them!? He managed to get his brain working properly when it directed him to the one place where it was most likely would be. 

The dresser, and it should be right next to the demonic device known as the alarm clock. Aka the Wet Dream Killer. Wade made his way over to the dresser, not even caring that he was dripping water everywhere…or the fact that it was getting cold but still, THIS TAKES PRIORITY! He was about to reach for his iPhone (Please God, Watcher in the Moon, ANYONE, let it have enough battery life), he noticed that there was a post-it note smack dab on the ugly lampshade that he doesn’t remember buying. 

Looking closer, he noticed that the handwriting was familiar…along with what seemed to be digits…

 

**xxx-xxx-xxx**

**hey jackass**

**here’s your (maybe) date’s number**

**figured you’d be shit-faced enough to forget**

**-weasel**

 

Wade blinked once, than twice before registering the fact that his best friend actually had the foresight to write down Baby Boy’s note when he dragged his drunken ass back to his apartment. 

**_Wait, doesn’t that mean he forfeited the bet?_ **

**Who the fuck cares?! The Author doesn’t! Time to dial that number and make that booty call!**

Ten steps and a skip ahead of those mutton voices, Wade made a mental note to call up Weasel to thank him later (and maybe ask if this is considered bet being still on or a forfeit) but whateves! Booty call! Figuratively. He will get to the literal part soon…

He dialed down the number upon his second landline phone- which he is going to save later, another mental note - he racked his brains for a possible pick-up line as a starter or maybe the classic “hi, insert introduction here…” 

But with the pick-up line section…well, he’s coming up a blank. 

Huh, that’s new.

Usually, it came to him like a snap.

Whatever, he’ll wing it! With maximum effort!

He tapped upon the surface of his drawer, shivering a bit and was debating on whether to place the closest thing to clothing when the other line was indicated that it was picked up.

“Hello?” 

O~ sweet titties of Stripperella on Baywatch!…That voice yo! It was like the sound of creamy salsa being gently spread on a buttery, fluffy tortilla wrap followed by the soft 'plop' of lettuce being pounded on top by a fifty year old dude's greasy hands. 

**_I don't know whether to feel hungry or aroused._ **

**That's why we're good looking AND delicious!**

“Ah…”

…

…

…shit.

Well, he’s just a little boy…calling up a Baby Boy…WHATTHEFUCKSHOULDHESAY!?

_Goddamn it, Words! Brain! Work together to work for ME!_

“..Hello?” 

SHIT! He’s sounding agitated…alright, no choice, what should he say in this situation?!

**_You should be natural, just say hello, introduce yourself, and not be creepy._ **

**Screw that! Start with a pick up line! Like, hello~ Baaaaaabeh. You have a good sleep last night? Cause I dream a lot about you.**

**_I don’t think that’s going to work._ **

**Says you! How many dates did YOU have?!**

**_WE never had a proper date that isn’t a terrible pity sex!_ **

“HIWADEWILSONHADWETDREAMSABOUTYOU! I THINK!”

…

“…Um, what?”

….ffffffFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

Wade then cleared his throat.

“Alright, do over…Link, be with me,” he mumbled to himself before speaking, “Hi, you don’t know me but I might be shit-faced drunk and kinda sorta hit on you…Wade Wilson, by the way.”

There was silence on the other line for a moment there, which worried Wade, until he heard a laugh. 

“A bit late for an introduction but I’ll accept it nonetheless!” Baby Boy spoke between giggles, which sounded bells to Wade’s ears. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.”

**Wait…his name is alliterative. OUR name is alliterative. IT’S OFFICIAL. We are meant to be! Cue the sex scene!**

**_Now hold on a minute! This is only the second chapter! We can just switch over to the finale THAT early!_ **

**Oh WHY NOT!? There are crazier writers out there who wrote terrible smut on this site with pairings that don’t make a lot of sense or just plain fucked up, along with crap grammar YET the admins let it slide while they decided to randomly take down other writers’ profiles!?**

**_Keep this up, and the author will lose HERS._ **

“Shit…”

“Wait, what?”

“What?” …Did he say that out loud? 

…

He said it out loud. 

“Sorry, I, uh, had a brain fart,” then he let out a small raspberry for emphasis, all the while kicking himself for saying something as stupid as that. But the ball is rolling and he had to chase after it! “So, um, yeah, Peter! That’s actually a cute name.”

“Thank you,” Oh dear sweet Baby Jesus, that bashful tone in his voice…if only he had the power to look through the phone and see how cute Peter’s face was when embarrassed. “So, um, yeah, I…never got hit on by anyone that is really drunk before. Though I have to admit that it was impressive that you managed to be coherent enough to ask me out.” 

**Dude, he’s impressed! We’re on a roll here!**

**_I don’t think being drunk yet coherent is considered impressive…_ **

“It’s, uh, required skill that I picked up along the way,” Wade began, trying to keep the ball rolling. “I mean, one time I actually made a satanic ritual for fun while shit-faced and actually conjured up a succubus. And we ended up in Vegas and got Elvis to marry us.” 

“Oh really?” Peter’s voice sounded amused. “So where was the Missus now?”

“Oh, probably in the Bahamas rolling around in the dough as consolation after the divorce. Even took the sad clown painting…I love that painting…”

A sound of laughter was heard on the other line, sending a shock into his heart…and a tingling sensation in Little Wade.

**Rude! We’re not little! We’re very well hung! Just measure it out!**

"Please, there's no measuring tape long enough to measure THIS." I said to the voices renting out my head. 

"Excuse me?" Peter asked, and I realized I said that aloud. 

....SHHHHHIIIIIII-T!! 

Well if this isn't hashtag awkward. 

**Dude, you don't say the actual word! You use the # symbol!**

**_Right, because people reading fanfiction are going to know the difference than if this was a graphic novel..._ **

Wade thought quickly for something to save face, even if it was on a phone. He had to think of something or else he might loose what seemed like the best booty call in the morning! And no, jacking off to a telephone offer on a credit card doesn't count! Come on, Wilson! Say something witty! Smart! Funny! ANYTHING!

"SOOOOOO, how's the weather!?" He spoke a little too quickly. 

"It's...ok," Peter replied on the other line, sounding a bit weirded out. "Kinda cloudy with a side of sunny but I have a feeling that it might rain." 

Ooh...the sight of him all wet in the rain...he could sooo see that. NO! Too early for wet daydreams. Literally.

"Yeah? Well if it does I'll be looking forward to it. Especially if it's a thunderstorm." Wade said. 

"Really? You sound just like my Aunt May. She likes thunderstorms too." Peter said with a chuckle. 

**Aha, a known relative! Now we know who to suck up to for brownie points.**

**_You think Aunt May will accept heart shaped pancakes of good will?_ **

"Sounds like Aunt May is a lady of fine taste." Wade said with a smile. 

“She sure is. But she's also a real firecracker. What about you? You have any family, besides your ex-wife?" Peter asked, sounding curious. 

"Oh yeah! I got a little sweet daughter who's the spitting image of me." Wade stated proudly. 

And with any luck, her future spouse won't hold that against her.

**OOOOOOHHHH SNAP!**

**_Someone call a medic cause that is some serious BURN!_ **

"Does she have her daddy's good looks?" There was a teasing tone in Peter's voice, and it was only for a moment that his mind went to the gutter before he forced it back up again. 

His intended love interest's teasing bedroom voice, good. Hearing it talk about his little girl? No no. He’s a bad guy, but he ain't no monster. Only fucked up people do fucked up shit like that. 

Even Anthony Hopkins wouldn't go near his dick, even if he would eat it as a hotdog! 

Hmmm...what would it taste like with relish and caramelized onions? 

**Ew, that is SICK, man! Think of the readers!**

**_Already I have flashbacks on Mein Teil music video...who knew that Germans can be both hardcore AND nightmarish._ **

He could only laugh on the phone while commanding his boner to go down. 

"I wish...she does have her mom's looks though her mama said that she takes after me in personality, though it was more downplayed." One time she DIIIID went to the principle's office for kicking a girl in the junk. But she so deserved it, ruled the school like baby Heathers.

He blamed the parents’ upbringing skills.

**_And we all know how THAT story went._ **

**Some sequels shouldn't be made.**

"Ah, I see. Well I'm sure she's a doll." Peter said. 

"Oh yeah, she's a regular Barbie." Wade replied with a chuckle. 

**_God, you did NOT just use that old line._ **

**Why not? He's an old guy.**

"Well then, Wade, I was wondering if I could ask you something." Peter spoke. 

"Sure, go on ahead." Wade said, sounding curious.

"Um..." From what he can hear, Peter sounded a bit hesitant. He could almost imagine him fidgeting. "Would you...would you consider perhaps meeting up some time? Over coffee that is? My treat." 

Wait...doth his ears deceive him!? Is Peter propositioned a date?!

**He did! And he even offered to treat us!**

**_That shouldn't be fair! After all, WE'RE the ones hit on him last night! Drunk even!_ **

**Hell yes it's fair! If he treats us, that means free coffee and free black forest cake to go with it.**

**_...Shoot, when you put it like that you're right. Okay, it's cool!_ **

"Wade?" Peter asked, sounding a bit worried that the man didn't reply. "What do you say?" 

"I say you got yourself a date, baby boy." Wade responded with a wide smile.

“Great! So how about Joan Lee’s Coffee House around noonish? That is if you don’t have plans today.”

“Fine by me! I’m free as a bird! I’ll be placing on my Sunday best!” And with that, he hung up and stared into space for a moment. Before breaking out into a cheer and a happy dance.

“FUCK THE HELL YES! I’M GETTING A DATE!” He crowed.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! IT’S MORNING!”

…And pissing off the neighbors. 

Still worth it. 

Now then…what to wear and which ones that doesn’t smell like road kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joan Lee's Coffee House - an obvious homage to the late Joan Lee, wife of Stan Lee.


End file.
